Last week, I posted a survey for my mom and dad friends wherein I asked them about the nitty-gritty of childbirth and childbearing. As a woman in early 30s, marriage and kid stuff has been on my mind lately. Not because I’m itching for either, but because I’m at the age where I have to think about it. No more goofing around in my twenties; the future is here, and I gotta figure out what it holds. As an only child of divorce, marriage and kids aren’t really my bag. Since I was a little girl, I related more towards the slightly depressed, child-less artist type, but as I’ve gotten older, this affection has softened. I do not have baby fever, but the prospect of not extending a branch of my family tree makes me sad. Plus, my partner and I are weird enough that I think our kid would be an awesome little weirdo.
I was thrilled with the responses I received from the survey. Fifty-six moms and dads answered, and many more left thoughtful, insightful and interesting comments on my blog post (more…)
I’m getting to that age where I’m thinking about kids.
And it’s not baby fever. F that. (Though babies are kind of squishy and cute.)
It’s more like, “Shit, if I put this thing off for much longer, that kid is going to have senior citizen parents.”
My dude and I have talked about kids, slightly, and we both kind of feel the same way. We’re not against them, but they’re not high up on our lists of things to do.
They’re scary, man.
I like sleeping in on the weekends. I like my alone time. Every once in awhile, I like having a nightcap and a Purple Rain one-person dance party at the house. I think about death and dying every hour of the day- how could I produce spawn and not explode from anxiety? What happens is my kid gets sick? Will I fall apart? What will happen to my relationship with my kid’s dad? TELL ME!!!!
These are thoughts that swim through my head on a daily basis, and it makes the thought of having kids kind of TERRIFYING.
This is where you come in.
People havin’ babies.
Babies all over the place.
I guess it’s that time of year; isn’t there a scientific fact that people fornicate more in the winter months? That’s why you don’t see a lot of January-March babies: it’s too f’ing hot in the summer.
“Hey, babe, wanna have S-E-X?”
“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! WHY DID YOU JUST TOUCH ME?! WHY?! DON’T YOU KNOW IT’S HOTTER THAN SATAN’S ASSHOLE RIGHT NOW?! HAVEN’T YOU FELT SATAN’S ASSHOLE BEFORE?!?!”
Babies weird me out because I’m a.) an only child and b.) a child of divorce. I wasn’t exactly conditioned to have offspring, but as I get older and realize there is a slight chance I could DIE ALONE, the thought of having many, many children to cater to my every beck and call sounds like a solid idea.
My biggest fear- besides getting bitten in the ass by a snake while tubing and separately, developing West Nile Virus- is ending up like that actress from Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, all mummified for a year before someone (more…)